Dance of the Blessed Spirits
by Marguerite1
Summary: An admittedly phony medium gets a startling message from the Great Beyond.


**Dance of the Blessed Spirits**

Classification: X File, takes place after "Closure" but before "Requiem."   
Summary: Sometimes fake mediums get it right. 

***** 

Happy Ridge Trailer Park   
Barker Springs, Texas   
Tuesday, 8:27 p.m.    


Dolores Graves was used to all kinds of strange people in her line of work,   
but until tonight she had never encountered anyone who wanted to wear a mask   
during the seance. She found the situation to be both bizarre and annoying.   
The mask made it nearly impossible to get a reading on the man who wore it,   
and being able to read people was bread and butter for any good fake psychic. 

In an attempt to conceal her forty-four years, Dolores colored her hair   
coal-black and ringed her eyes with dark purple liner to accent their violet   
hue. The general effect was part gypsy and part ghastly. Tonight she wore a   
long black dress with the butterfly sleeves that had been so popular in the   
1970s. In fact, she had worn this dress to her prom and hints of the original   
mint green print were beginning to show through the black dye. Dolores liked   
the effect the huge sleeves gave as she waved her arms around, so she kept the   
lighting dim and hoped no one would notice the dress. She often reflected that   
the dress had held up better than her marriage to the boy who took her to that   
prom. 

Her daughter, Lacy, was stationed behind a closet door that was hung with a   
two-way mirror. The man in the mask and his pretty blonde girlfriend - who,   
for some reason, did not feel a need to disguise herself but sat with her   
fuschia-nailed hands on top of her handbag - could see their reflections in   
the flickering candlelight if they were so inclined, but they seemed intent   
upon listening to Dolores' voice rather than examining their surroundings. 

"Down, down, down we go into the world beyond our world," she intoned. "It is   
there that we will see those who have gone before." 

On cue, Lacy rattled the doorknob with her chubby hand. She was twelve and   
finally considered old enough to work the seances like her older brother,   
Eugene. Her job was to appear as a deceased child or a little old woman,   
depending upon the rehearsed hints her mother gave her. Eugene's voice had   
changed and now her mother depended on Lacy for the right effect. 

"Someone wants to come in!" Dolores cried. "Enter, O spirit!" 

Lacy was turning the doorknob in earnest but the door did not open. Dolores   
could hear her sighing in pre-teen exasperation with the world, and she could   
imagine Lacy pushing aside her torn white veil to get a look at the   
recalcitrant knob. 

"I can't," she hissed in a loud stage whisper. 

Dolores frowned. "You can! You can join us here in the Upper World and give   
these people a chance to talk to..."  

At this point the attendees usually cooperated, providing a clue like "Mama"   
or "my poor little baby girl," but these people were silent. Waiting.     
Dolores imagined Lacy's frustration at having no directions. She was   
pleasantly surprised at the high-pitched voice that emanated from the closet.   
"Is that you? Is that my little boy?"   She didn't know Lacy could do accents.   
This one was a feminine version of the masked man's, lilting in an   
unidentifiable European way. Lacy continued, asking in a petulant tone: "Who   
is this woman?"   The man whipped his head around to look at his companion.   
"She is my...partner."  

"Ha, partner. Where is your wife?"  

"Your WHAT?" squeaked the blonde.  

"MOTHER!" cried the man. Dolores was sitting close enough to notice that his   
mask was darkening around the edges as sweat began to soak the cloth. 

"Why are you with this tart? Didn't I warn you to stay with a girl from the   
Old Country?"  Damn, Dolores thought, Lacy watches way too much TV but it sure   
comes in handy when things go wrong.  

"Tart? Wife? WIFE?" The blonde stood up. "All these years and you   
said...OOOOH!" Her verbal vocabulary seemed limited but her repertoire of hand   
gestures was both comprehensive and effective.   "Wait, wait," the man   
pleaded. "I can explain everything!"  

"Too bad. I'm exposing you for what you are, you FRAUD! No, not YOU, lady -   
HIM!" She opened her purse and showed Dolores the little video camera inside,   
its lens opening where the Dooney and Burke label had been removed. "We're not   
really trying to contact anyone - we're just taping you. We tape seances and   
we debunk them, and we make a LOT of money doing it."  

"Ohhhh," the man moaned, putting his head in his hands. His dark hair seemed   
to be standing on end.  

"Please, please!" Dolores begged. "Let us continue in peace. I'm sure the   
spirit meant no disrespect. Sometimes they are confused, angry..."  

The man slumped in his chair, the blonde poking him in the arm to make sure he   
was seeing her shoot the finger at him.  

But he was beyond seeing anything. His body crashed to the spotted vinyl   
floor, taking with him the checkered tablecloth, a crystal ball that turned   
out to be made of sterner stuff because it bounced and rolled away, and four   
greasy yellow candles.  

The blonde stopped shrieking and stared. "Honey?" she whispered, poking him   
more gently. She listened to his chest for a moment, then jumped up and   
shrieked again. "He's DEAD! He's DEAD!"  

"He's not dead," Dolores said in her normal voice, which was a full octave   
higher and tinted with an East Texas twang. "He just fainted."   

"He's DEAD! He's DEAD!" Like a canary gone mad, the blonde flapped around the room   
ineffectively for a few moments and then darted out the front door of the   
trailer, still screaming at the top of her lungs. Dolores could hear her   
outside, yelling for dear life.  

Inside the trailer, Dolores sighed. "Lacy, get out here right NOW and help me   
get this poor man to wake up."  

"Can't," the little girl's voice said truculently from behind the closed door.   
"It's locked."  Dolores went over to the door and opened it with ease. She put   
her fists on her hips and stared down at her daughter. "If you hadn't done   
such a good job tonight, I'd give you the whipping of your life for lying to   
me."  

Lacy's round face was pale, her gray-green eyes watery. "But Mama...hey,   
where'd they go?"  

"No buts, young lady. Let's get some water down this guy and see if he wakes   
up. I just hope he brought cash."  

At the instant Dolores knelt beside the man and saw how white he was, she got   
the first twinges of fear in her gut. A touch to the side of his clammy neck   
confirmed her fear and she sat back on her heels, eyes wide open. "Oh, my God,   
he's dead! He's really dead!"  

"Really? A real live dead guy? Wow!" Lacy reached for the mask and pulled it   
aside, catching strands of dark, wavy hair in the bands. "Hey, Mama, I seen   
this guy on TV." 

"I have, too." Despite her revulsion, Dolores peered down   
into the white face. "He's got a show and he sells video tapes. Son of   
a...what the hell's his name? "  

"The...the..." Lacy bit her lip for a second,then scooted away on her bottom   
as if suddenly aware that a dead man was not three inches from her. "Wait,   
Mama! I know! That's the Stupendous Yappi!"   
      
*****    

J. Edgar Hoover Building   
Thursday, 1:15 p.m.   


Scully wasn't buying this for one minute. Not the phony widow's weeds, not the   
genteel sniffling into a lace-trimmed handkerchief, not the doe-eyed glances   
aimed squarely into her partner's eyes. Not from this woman. 

Sylvia Robinson was the name she wore on her visitor's pass, which was clipped   
to the jacket of her exquisitely tailored black suit. The neckline of the   
blouse was low enough to expose considerable cleavage for such a thin woman,   
and the skirt's hemline rose fetchingly each time she crossed her long legs.   
Scully, who had vivid memories of Ms. Robinson and the various roles she had   
played in Stupendous Yappi videos and commercials, scowled at the police   
report from her perch on the edge of Mulder's desk. 

Mulder sat behind the desk, leaning back in his chair with his hands folded   
behind his head. He was not really looking at Sylvia Robinson, just glancing   
at her from time to time and obviously having trouble keeping a smirk from   
forming at the corner of his mouth. Most of the time he looked up at the   
ceiling as if counting the tiles for the thousandth time. 

"She must have known who we were," Sylvia said mournfully. "Surely she   
suspected - Yappi was a world-renowned psychic, after all." 

Scully did not even look up from her file folder. "According to the police   
reports, Ms. Robinson, Mrs. Graves' daughter identified Mr. Yap...uh...the   
deceased only after the mask was removed." 

"Of course that's what she would say." 

Mulder sighed and shifted in his chair. "So you came to see Agent Scully and   
myself because...?" 

Sylvia straightened, batting her eyelashes at Mulder. "I believe that Dolores   
Graves knew who we were and murdered Yappi out of professional jealousy." 

"The police report states..." 

"I know, they say it was a heart attack. But I say..." Here she leaned   
forward, displaying more of her bustline than Scully would have thought   
possible. "I say that she felt threatened and the only way around it was to   
take his life. I say it was nothing less than murder." 

Scully half expected the woman to add, "murder most foul," but there was a   
heavy silence in the office. 

"Scully, would you be willing to have a look at the late Mr. Yappi? I see in   
the report that Ms. Robinson has had him flown to the morgue at Quantico in   
expectation of our looking into the matter." Only Scully could hear the   
mocking laughter behind the deadpan delivery, and only Mulder would notice the   
answering note of annoyance. 

"Absolutely." Scully stood up and walked briskly past Sylvia Robinson toward   
the door, showing a fair amount of her own legs in the process. "I'll head on   
out there and get started as soon as I can. Ms. Robinson, would you care to   
have us call you when the results are in?" 

"I...that is...I was hoping that Agent Mulder could give me a ride to the   
facility so I could wait there. I'm so...anxious." 

The squeak of Mulder's desk chair was not quite loud enough to hide his   
chuckle. "My car's in the shop. But I'd be glad to call you when I hear from   
Agent Scully." 

Sylvia did not seem to care much for that answer and stood up, stalking out   
the door with a disappointed sneer, leaving a trail of Opium in her wake. 

"Liar," Scully whispered as she went back to his desk and leaned over to meet   
his eyes. "I parked next to you." 

"You wouldn't leave me alone with that...barracuda, would you?" 

"Depends. You buying dinner?" 

Mulder made a show of sighing and wringing his hands. "You drive a hard   
bargain, Dr. Scully. The pub by that place?" 

"Yeah, I'll probably need a drink by then. Sevenish." Halfway to the door she   
stopped, and without turning around said, "Do you realize that I actually   
understood what you just told me? I'm not sure if I should be pleased or   
terrified." 

As she shut the door behind her she heard muffled laughter. "Terrified,   
Scully." 

***** 

Sandy's Bar and Grill   
7:22 p.m.   


"There's nothing stupendous about him, Mulder," Scully said as she slid into   
the booth seat opposite him. "Pretty clear-cut heart attack. No sign of foul   
play." 

"He's a little young for a heart attack, don't you think?" 

"I took a look at his medical history - by the way, his real name was Gerald   
Putzman." 

Mulder looked as if he'd taken an unexpected bite of something sour. "Ow. I   
thought I had troubles." 

"Anyhow, there was heart disease on both sides of the family. His father died   
relatively young although his mother lived until just a few years ago.   
However, his mother had a degenerative coronary disease and it looks like she   
passed it along to...Gerald." 

Mulder signaled the waiter by pointing at his beer and holding up two fingers.   
"I took a look at the video that Sylvia Robinson left us. It's pretty   
interesting." 

"Interesting how?" Scully took Mulder's glass and sipped from it, unwilling to   
wait long enough for her own to get there. 

"On the face of it, we're looking at a straightforward fake seance. You can   
see the wires from the table up to the ceiling and I'm pretty sure that the   
mirror on the closet door is a two-way. It shouldn't have taken them five   
minutes to debunk the whole damn thing." He leaned in closer. "There's one   
thing that fascinates me, though. The operation that night was a mother and   
daughter. The 'voice from the spirit world' that came through wasn't the   
mother because she was talking at the same time for a second or two. And it's   
a mature voice, Scully, way beyond what a twelve-year-old girl would be able   
to fake. Someone was in that closet with her. Someone...or something." 

"Mulder," Scully groaned, this time into her own beer. 

"I want to go check it out. We can fly into Dallas first thing in the morning,   
have a look, come straight back." 

"Our track record of going to and coming back from Dallas is a little less   
than sterling." They stared across the table at one another until Scully   
finally blinked. 

Mulder smirked. "I'll buy dessert." 

***** 

Interstate Highway 635   
East of Mesquite, Texas   
Friday, 3:45 p.m.   


"Might've been nice if they'd warned us that this place was ten miles east of   
Nowhere," Mulder groused as he flicked on the windshield wipers to carry away   
the latest onslaught of kamikaze bugs. 

"We're almost there. Mulder, look at that sign - 'Rodeo City Music Hall.'   
Think anyone here gets the joke?" 

"It's a joke?" Mulder grinned and peered over at her as she compared the road   
map to her written directions. 

"This is our exit. Turn right at the overpass and keep going until we see the   
sign for 'Happy Ridge.'" She leaned back in her seat, frowning at the   
dilapidated houses and trailers that dotted the landscape. "One medium sized   
tornado could take out this whole community." 

"Probably has, and more than once." He steered around a small pile of auto   
parts as he turned the corner into the entrance of the Happy Ridge Trailer   
Park. They pulled up in front of a yellow trailer with a hand labeled sign   
proclaiming it to be the manager's office. Scully stepped carefully across the   
unpaved ground, mindful of the pits in the dark clay earth and grateful for   
Mulder's steadying hand on her elbow. 

She knocked on the door while Mulder reached for his badge. A short, stout man   
opened the door and eyed them critically. "What can I do for you?" 

"I'm Agent Dana Scully of the FBI and this is my partner, Agent Fox Mulder.   
We'd like to talk to Dolores Graves." 

The man took a cursory look at the badge. "We already had the police out twice   
- the night it happened and again yesterday to talk to Lacy. I'd say that   
little girl's been through enough." His pronunciation of POH-leece made   
Scully's eyes widen slightly and she turned to Mulder, cueing him to speak   
next. 

"We're not here to bother Lacy or her mother. There are just a few details   
that we're curious about, that's all. It'll just take a moment." 

Scully glanced at Mulder, amused to hear the faintest hints of a Texas accent   
starting to appear in his voice. He had chameleon tendencies that turned up at   
odd moments and somehow calmed people into cooperating. The manager's   
expression softened a bit and he stepped outside to point out the correct   
trailer. 

"Thanks," Scully said as she headed up the trail to the space numbered 47,   
taking out her badge this time and wondering if they'd actually agreed to take   
turns or if it was just force of habit. She knocked on the door. "Mrs. Graves?   
FBI. We'd like to talk to you, please." 

Dolores Graves answered the door, dressed in faded blue jeans and a light pink   
t-shirt. Her hair was piled up in a banana clip at the back of her head, and   
she wore no makeup. Her mouth pursed a little as her glance fell on Scully's   
professional grooming. "I've talked to the police already." 

She pronounced it POH-leece just as the manager had. 

"We understand that, Mrs. Graves, and we won't take up any more of your time   
than we have to, okay?" Mulder was looking directly into her eyes with his   
charm turned up full throttle, and it worked the way it almost always did. 

"Place is a mess. I had to let Lacy and Eugene" - which she pronounced   
EWE-jeen - "go back to school today and I don't got no help." She ushered them   
into the living room, gesturing to the shabby furniture covered with worn but   
clean old quilts. "Sit down. I'll get us some iced tea." 

Scully looked around the room until she recognized the dining area where the   
seances were held. Mulder was already on his feet to follow Dolores into the   
kitchen. A chalk outline had been partially scrubbed away. "Gerald, we hardly   
knew ye," Mulder muttered. 

"'Scuse me?" 

"Your guest's name was...well, that's not really important. You'll probably be   
relieved to know that he did die of a heart attack." 

"Thank God." She picked up the three glasses of tea, then stopped to face   
Mulder. "I mean, I'm just glad that Lacy won't have to worry anymore. She   
thought we was all going to hell for killing that man." 

"Here, let me help you." Mulder took a glass for himself and one for Scully   
and went back into the living room. He took a sip of the tea and his eyes   
widened. "It's swayt," Dolores said. "Hope y'all don't mind." 

Scully turned the word over in her head for a few moments, decided that the   
tea was 'sweet,' and braced herself for the cloying taste of sugar. No matter   
the flavor, the liquid was cold and soothed the dusty scratch at the back of   
her throat. Mulder appeared to be weighing the option of slaking his thirst at   
the cost of the hyperactivity sugar tended to produce in him . He set the   
glass down on the coffee table. 

"So tell me, Mrs. Graves," Mulder said without missing a beat, "how you came   
to be in the psychic business." 

Her laugh was brittle and hoarse. "Ain't much of a business, tell you the   
truth. I used to be a switchboard operator down at the fire department, but   
then they went to those computerized phones and I was out of work. Went to   
beauty school for a while, but I can't stand up for a real long time so that's   
no good." She pulled up the legs of her jeans and showed long, vertical scars   
that went halfway up each tibia. "My asshole ex-husband, Jake, ran me down   
with the car when he found out I was going to court over his not paying child   
support. Broke both my legs and they haven't worked too good since it   
happened." 

"I'm so sorry," Scully said, her voice dark and sympathetic. 

"So he won't pay nothin' and I've got two kids to feed. I'm not much for   
learning new things, but one thing I can do is read people. So I started this   
Madame Dolores thing, with Eugene doing some little tricks and now Lacy to do   
the voices. I didn't mean no harm, you gotta understand that. But no one from   
my family's ever been on welfare and I'll be damned if I'm the first." She set   
her jaw and looked straight at Mulder. "So you can sit there with your fancy   
education and think I'm pitiful, but let me tell you something - my kids are   
going to school and they're gonna go to college if it's the last thing I do.   
We're poor but we ain't trash." 

Color rose on Mulder's tanned face, splotching his cheeks with crimson. Scully   
found herself wanting to apologize for him, for them both, but when she looked   
at Dolores she found the woman smiling at her. 

"So now we've got that settled, let me ask y'all something. Does the FBI ever   
deal with hauntings and stuff like that?" 

"Officially, no," Mulder said softly. "But if you have questions, we're the   
people to ask." 

"See, the thing is - you're gonna think I'm crazy..." 

"Believe me, Mrs. Graves, nothing you could say will surprise either Agent   
Mulder or myself." 

She settled back in her chair. "Y'all saw the videotape that woman made,   
right? You know the voice, the funny voice with the accent? Lacy can't do that   
accent - and she says she wasn't even talking but that the voice just came out   
of her mouth and she couldn't control it." 

"Wait, wait...she says there was someone else in her body with her?" 

Scully was prepared to see Mulder in his usual believer's posture, body flung   
forward to the edge of the sofa, hands in the air, but instead he sat back   
with one ankle neatly crossed over the other knee, his fingers steepled but   
still. 

"I don't know exactly what she means and she probably doesn't, either, but if   
you ask her she can tell you all about it." Dolores got to her feet and yelled   
down the short hallway. "Lacy! Lacy Marie! Get on out here and talk to these   
folks!" 

The door to the back bedroom opened and Lacy emerged, clad in denim shorts and   
an N'Sync t-shirt. Her long brown hair reached past her shoulders and swung   
slightly as she walked into the living room. "Who're you?" she asked. "Do I   
have to tell about that man again?" 

"Just this once, honey," her mother said soothingly, drawing Lacy to sit on   
her lap. "The lady is Agent Scully and the man is Agent Mulder and they're   
from the FBI." 

"Whoa, cool!" Lacy's round face lit up as she smiled, showing her small, white   
teeth and the dimple in her right cheek. "Can I see your badges?" 

Smiling, Scully pulled out her ID case and passed it to the little girl, then   
took Mulder's from his hand and passed that along as well. Lacy examined them,   
giggling and pressing her hand over her mouth. "Mama, look - his name's FOX!" 

Mulder took back his wallet and stuffed it in his pocket with a grimace at   
Scully, who was trying not to laugh. "What can you tell us about the night of   
the seance?" 

Lacy gave her mother a quick glance, then twisted a strand of her hair around   
and put it in her mouth while she paused. "Well, it was dark in there and we   
didn't know what these people wanted, y'know?" she said, munching on her hair.   
"I was in my white dress - it's actually Maria Torres' confirmation dress that   
she outgrew - and I was waiting for Mama's cue. But she didn't give me none   
and I was confused and the door wouldn't open and it was too dark to see   
through that mirror thing...and then..." She took the hair out of her mouth   
and looked at her sneakers. "I don't remember nothing until Mama banged on the   
door." 

"You're sure?" Scully asked, leaning forward to look into the girl's eyes. 

"Yes, ma'am. Next thing I remember, I was getting out of the closet and that   
lady, she was runnin' around the room like a chicken with its head cut off and   
the man was on the floor." 

"You didn't hear voices while you were in the closet?" 

"No, sir. I didn't hear nothin' until..." 

"ANYthing, Lacy," her mother prompted, pulling Lacy's wrist until she let go   
of the strand of hair she had begun to gnaw on again. 

"Until she got me out of that closet. Anyways, that's all I know. Mama, when   
do we eat?" 

"As soon as these nice people are on their way and Eugene gets off work. My   
son," Dolores said to the agents while Lacy sank back for a hug, "works down   
at Albertson's in the produce department. He'll be along in a few minutes." 

"We won't keep you, then." Mulder and Scully rose in unison and each extended   
a hand to Dolores. When Mulder took Lacy's chubby hand in his, she looked up   
at him and her eyes were suddenly very, very old. "I was so happy to see you,   
Fox." 

"Lacy Marie Graves, where the HELL are your manners?" Dolores chided, poking   
her daughter's arm. 

Mulder was standing stock still, gazing at the little girl whose voice was   
suddenly so familiar. 

"Fox, did you find it? I left it for you." 

Scully crouched down on her heels and brought her face level with Lacy's.   
"What did you leave?" 

"My diary. I couldn't remember your name, Fox, I'm so sorry..." 

"What's the matter with you, Lacy?" Dolores' face was white, but Mulder's was   
even paler as he listened to Lacy's answer. 

"Oh, Fox, I'm not Lacy," she giggled in a voice that was achingly unmistakable   
to Mulder as he struggled to keep his balance. She reached up to him and   
wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her cheek to his heart. 

"I'm Samantha." 

*****   


Scully watched Mulder stumble out of the trailer into the evening air. Her   
stolid expression would not be enough to fool an expert face-reader like   
Dolores, so she excused herself with a nod toward the door and followed her   
partner outside. 

He stood with his palms against his thighs, leaning forward as if having   
trouble breathing. His head was lowered and his eyes were closed, his lips   
twitching slightly. 

"Mulder." Scully put her hand on his upper arm and gave it a gentle squeeze.   
"You okay?" 

"I don't know," he muttered, straightening his spine until he was standing   
upright and looking down into her curious eyes. "I wasn't expecting that. I   
wasn't prepared for it. The journal." 

Scully examined a speck of dirt on the toe of her shoe and Mulder turned his   
face toward the sky. "I know you don't want to hear this, Mulder, but all   
little girls keep journals." 

His sidelong glance told her that she had made a fatal misstep. " 'All' little   
girls? Did you have a pink leather book with a tiny gold lock, Scully?" 

Refusing to be baited, she rolled her eyes at him. "What I'm saying, Mulder,   
is that Lacy's performance was hardly psychic. More of a lucky guess." 

"No." He held up his hand, palm outward, patting the air as if it had   
substance, like a mime looking for the walls of his box. "Sure, she could have   
guessed that my sister had a journal, but how could she possibly know that her   
name was Samantha? Think about it, Scully . No one knew we were coming here,   
there was no way she could've looked up this information on the internet, if   
they even have the internet , while we were sitting with her mother." 

"Mulder, no." Scully stood on tiptoe, placing her hands on Mulder's shoulders.   
"I know you want this, but it's not what you think. What you need." 

"You're wrong." He disentangled himself from her embrace but held her hands   
for a just a moment before releasing them. "Trust me, Scully." 

Before Scully could form a retort, Dolores appeared in the doorway, her face   
drawn and pale. "I can't get her to wake up. She says she has to tell you   
something else before Lacy comes back." 

Mulder's face showed no surprise as he looked at Scully. "You coming along?"   
Turning on his heel he headed back into the trailer, Scully following with a   
frown creasing her mouth and forehead. 

Lacy sat on the sofa, her chin cupped in her pudgy hands. She smiled as if   
aware of Mulder's presence even though she did not turn her gaze to him. "Fox,   
that night you saw me - it started out like all our other nights, clear and   
bright with stars, but then I saw the new little girl, Amberlynn, and she fit   
in so perfectly that I knew it was going to be a special night. I'd been   
thinking about you and how you used to push me in that rope swing in the back   
yard, and I got a vision of you turning into a grownup. Then I saw you and I   
just knew that my brother's name was Fox and he'd come to say goodbye." She   
looked up at him. "You touched my face after all these years. Like this." She   
reached up and he bent over so that she could put her palms against his   
cheeks. "I'm so grateful that you found me." 

Swaying on his feet, Mulder looked down at her with tears trembling at the   
edges of his eyes. His lips curved around the name "Samantha" but nothing came   
out but a choked rush of air. 

"I'm sorry, Fox. I'm sorry..." Lacy's eyes shut and when she opened them   
again, the maturity and sorrow had vanished, leaving the clear gray-green of   
an ordinary child. "Mama?" she cried as she dropped her hands from Mulder's   
face. 

"It's okay, baby!" Dolores threw herself on the sofa next to her daughter and   
embraced her tightly. "Are you all right?" 

"Yeah, I s'pose." She rubbed her eyes and yawned. "What's going on, Mama?" 

Dolores looked at the two agents and Scully saw themselves through the   
mother's eyes, one hugging himself tightly against some inner torment, the   
other standing erect, her face a study in confusion and conflict. When she   
spoke, Dolores' voice was gentle but decided. "I'm not sure, honey. But I   
think they can help us." 

Scully looked up at Mulder. She had seen these emotions play across his face   
so many times that surely she should be immune, but there was a softness in   
his eyes that drove reason from her brain with the unexpected brutality of a   
cattle prod. 

"Of course we will," she heard herself say. 

***** 

Ramada Inn and Rodeo Convention Center   
Room 724   
9:17 p.m.   


"She really got under your skin, Mulder." 

They had been sitting side by side, barefoot, on the lumpy mattress of   
Scully's bed for half an hour, drinking tepid soda and avoiding talking to one   
another. Mulder's shoulders were slumped so far that it was difficult for him   
to shrug. "Wouldn't it get under yours, Scully?" 

"Maybe. If I were so inclined." She swirled the can to get the last few drops   
of Diet Dr. Pepper. "If I were someone like Yappi, I suppose the shock could   
even kill me. He'd been 'tracking' his dead mother for years, just like   
Houdini, and with exactly the same lack of success. It pissed him off so much   
that he started to debunk seances." 

"Which is ironic, considering how much psychic bullshit he sold over the   
years. Not to mention a certain alien autopsy video starring my favorite   
redhead." 

That earned him a grunt and a light punch on the upper arm, but Scully still   
smiled the secret smile she reserved for Mulder at his most exasperating.   
"Whatever, but I still wish I knew why you never told me what you saw that   
night." 

"I guess because I was afraid you wouldn't believe me. Because sometimes..."   
His voice trailed off and he ran his fingers through his hair until it stood   
up on end. 

Smoothing down the dark brown spikes, Scully asked, "Sometimes, what, Mulder?" 

He looked miserable. "Because sometimes I wonder if you can believe." 

Scully jerked her hand away quickly and balled it into a fist. She stared at a   
stain on the ceiling, anything to avoid the accusation in his eyes. "Oh,   
Mulder," she sighed, more to herself than to him. 

"What will it take, Scully? What more proof do you need? Isn't this exactly   
what your religion teaches you, that we don't disappear when we die but that   
we watch over the ones we loved?" 

"I do believe that with all my heart. But Mulder..." Her voice wavered just a   
little and she continued looking upward as if the words she needed were just   
beyond the white glass of the light fixture. "Sometimes I see you rushing into   
these things with such recklessness...I do this for you. To protect you from   
the things you want so much that you can't see how they'll hurt you." 

Just as she lowered her face to him, her cell phone rang. They both jumped. 

"Hello?" Scully breathed into the receiver as she flipped the phone open.   
"Hello?" She listened for a moment, her features arranging themselves into a   
thoughtful frown. "We'll be right there." At Mulder's questioning look she   
said, "It's Dolores Graves. A social worker is on her way over to take Lacy   
away." 

Mulder was on his feet, trying to slip into the shoes he had not bothered to   
untie. "Scully, I didn't mean..." 

"Later. Much later." She slipped the phone into her pocket and started to put   
on her shoes, but to her astonishment Mulder was sitting tailor-fashion on the   
floor, slipping her right pump on her foot. "Checking for Cinderella, or just   
apologizing?" 

"If the shoe fits." He looked up at her with genuine contrition in his eyes.   
"Forgiven?" 

"Throw in a foot massage and we'll talk. Right now, we've got to keep Lacy   
with her mother until we know more about...the thing." 

It was her best offer. 

***** 

Happy Ridge Trailer Park   
10:03 p.m.   


They heard voices raised in argument: two women, a girl, and a boy. Scully   
knocked on the door while Mulder put his hand on his holster, just in case the   
argument was escalating. "Mrs. Graves, it's Agents Scully and Mulder." 

The door swung open with a loud creak. "Thank God," Dolores said. "Make this   
woman understand, I didn't DO anything to the man." 

"Who are you?" asked a tall, middle-aged woman whose dyed blonde hair was   
desperately in need of a root job. Scully was so used to the southern accents   
she had heard all afternoon that the sudden flat Midwestern vowel sounds were   
almost a shock coming from this woman. 

Mulder smiled and held out his ID card. "I'm Agent Mulder with the FBI, and   
this is my partner, Agent Scully. We were investigating the death of Mr., uh,   
Putzman. And you are...?" 

She seemed immune to Mulder's charm. "I'm from Child Protective Services. My   
name is Esther Houston." She pronounced it HOWston, which Lacy found amusing   
enough to warrant a giggle even though her round face was stained with tears. 

"Ms. HOWston," Dolores said with a mixture of fear and contempt in her voice,   
"wants to take Lacy to a shelter. Can she do that?" 

"I'm not an expert in these matters," Scully said smoothly, "but I'm very   
curious as to why Ms. Houston feels strongly enough to come out at this hour   
and try to take a little girl from her home." 

"This girl was present for a man's death. Not only that, she was assisting her   
mother in defrauding the man in question. I'm considering a motion from her   
father to transfer custody to him." 

"What the hell for?" Dolores demanded. "He hasn't paid a nickel in child   
support and I can't remember the last time he called either of them on their   
birthdays or at Christmas." 

The mention of the second child made Scully look over to see a morose young   
man sitting limply on the sofa. His hair was lighter than his sister's and his   
eyes were a watery, pale blue. He looked at the two agents with disinterest,   
but when he cast his gaze on his sister he looked terribly sad. 

Esther shrugged. "I'm just telling you that Jake Graves is very concerned for   
the welfare of his daughter. He doesn't want her being raised in an   
environment where people are cheating other people." 

"That's a good one. Cheating. He should know." Dolores put her fist over her   
mouth to cover a choking sob. "I'm sorry. I try not to say anything bad about   
their father, but this...this doesn't make any sense, taking Lacy and Eugene   
away from me over what these people done said was an accident. You can't do   
that, Ms. Houston." 

"HOWston," The correction was terse. "And Mr. Graves didn't say anything about   
taking Eugene." 

Mulder's brow puckered. "Wait. He's concerned for Lacy because of the   
situation here, but not Eugene?" 

The boy seemed to make himself smaller, hunching into a ball on the couch.   
Lacy ran over and put her head on his shoulder, crying loudly with childish   
sobs. "I ain't leavin' Eugene. No way," she hiccuped. "Not while that man's   
sister talks to me. I'm scared!" 

"It's okay, Lacy," Mulder said in a calm, even voice. "We believe you and   
we're not going to let anything happen to you." 

Esther looked over to Mulder with a smirk on her dark red lips. Her breath   
reeked of cigarettes and cheap coffee. "You can NOT be serious. You're going   
along with this trailer park hoax? You're willing to let a little girl be used   
for pseudo-psychic garbage?" 

"It's not garbage." Mulder's answering whisper was low and dangerous. "And   
she's going to prove it to you. Come on over here, Lacy. It's okay. No one's   
taking you anywhere." 

Slowly, reluctantly, she sidled up next to him and rested against his hip.   
Scully leaned over to him and whispered, "Mulder, she's already got   
information about Samantha from what you verified earlier. You can't use that   
as a test." 

"I don't intend to. She's not going to talk to anyone from my family - she's   
going to talk to yours." 

"Mulder, no." 

She wanted him to realize that she believed, when it was even remotely   
possible, but that this was beyond her capacity. Her analytical mind would   
stretch only so far, so far, and this would surely break it just as the alien   
spacecraft in Africa had done. 

Then she looked into the frightened eyes of a little girl and the pleading   
ones of a desperate mother and she could no more resist than she could cut off   
her own hand. 

"All right. Let's do this." 

"Oh, for the love of..." Esther rolled her eyes. 

"Ms. Houston, if we can prove that Lacy is telling the truth, will you give us   
enough time to get counsel for Mrs. Graves? Can you give us that much?" 

"Oh, sure, yes. It's not like she's going to be able to actually do it or   
anything." Her heavy shoes made a clunking noise as she walked over the   
linoleum to the dining table. "Let's get on with this." 

Mulder sat at Esther's left with Scully on his other side, and Scully held   
tightly to Lacy's hand while her mother completed the circle. Eugene sat on   
the outside, watching, breathing lightly through his open mouth. 

Feeling trapped and nervous, Scully asked, "Lacy, can you find someone from my   
family? Is there someone who wants to talk to me?" 

"Yes...I think so...she's here with me." Her voice took on a more mature   
quality, unexpected in such a young girl. "She's in me." 

"Lacy, who are you?" Dolores asked with a quiver in her voice. 

"I'm not Lacy." She opened her eyes and Scully could have sworn that they were   
almost green now. "I'm Melissa." 

The bones in Mulder's hand nearly cracked under the sudden pressure Scully put   
on them as she struggled not to gasp. "If you're Melissa, then tell me   
something I've never told Mulder." 

"Remember when Charles gave us those tiny little silver link bracelets for   
Christmas? And you got into a fight with me over the last piece of pecan pie   
and we arm wrestled for it?" 

"God," Scully breathed, her hands becoming damp and shaky. "I remember." 

"You broke mine when you slammed my arm on the table, and Mom told you to give   
me yours. You started crying, but Mom just said to go feed the dog. Oh, you   
were so mad, Dana, and your aura was blood red. I just sat at the table,   
grinning at Bill because for once you were the one in trouble instead of one   
of us. Do you remember what you did?" 

"I fed..." Scully started, but Mulder stopped her with a squeeze of her hand. 

"Don't give her anything," he warned. 

"We heard the can opener and Jack barking the way he did when he wanted to be   
fed, and when you came back to the table the bracelet was gone. 'If I can't   
have it, she can't either,' is what you said. Remember?" 

Scully felt a rush of grief so intense that she scarcely had time to close her   
eyes before tears started to slip out, and without a free hand to wipe them   
away they trailed down her cheeks. When she opened them again, she could   
almost see traces of Melissa's fine bone structure in Lacy's round face. 

"Dad finally got it out of you - you'd slapped some Alpo on the counter,   
rolled the bracelet up in the dog food, and fed it to Jack." 

Smiles broke out on the faces of everyone at the table except for Esther, who   
was looking squarely at her watch. 

Lacy continued in Melissa's smoky voice. "I felt so proud of you for doing   
that. I helped you clean up after Jack for days, waiting for that damn   
bracelet to make an appearance, and when it did I washed it and polished it   
and gave it back to you. You wore it on your first date." 

"Stop. Please." Scully released the hands that held hers and used her fingers   
to blot the tears as she rose and left the table. "I can't hear any more of   
this. I haven't thought about the bracelet in years. I can't..." 

"It's all right, Dana. I'll go now." 

Lacy slumped in her chair for a moment, then sat up straight, blinking as if   
coming out of a darkened movie theater into bright sunlight. "Did I do it?" 

"Oh, for pete's sake," muttered Esther. "For all I know, these two are your   
plants. I've seen enough of what people like you can do...where's a phone?"   
She got up from the table, nearly upsetting her chair in the process, and   
snatched the phone out of Eugene's hands as he held it out to her. While she   
punched in numbers and muttered into the receiver, Dolores took Mulder and   
Scully aside. 

"Is it true, what Lacy just said?" 

"It's not only true," Scully said softly, grateful for the strong grip of   
Mulder's hands on her shoulders," but she even sounded like her. My sister.   
Melissa. She's dead." 

"Scully, why don't you sit down for a minute?" Mulder's voice, heavy and   
concerned, was all Scully could hear as she became light-headed and the roar   
of a distant ocean started just behind the shell of her ear. She let Mulder   
lead her to the sofa while she processed this long-forgotten story. 

"I don't want to believe this," she whispered. "I thought somehow Lacy knew   
about Samantha, I don't know how, but this...this is something I haven't   
thought about in years, not since Melissa died. It was even her voice, down to   
the inflection. I don't understand how she does it." 

"I don't understand, either," Mulder said. His voice was soothing, just   
audible above the sounds of Esther asking questions of the person on the other   
end and the dozens of rapid fire questions Eugene had for his sister. "But now   
you believe." 

Scully nodded, too drained to say another word. Esther crossed the room and   
stood in front of her, hands on hips. "Well, your FBI credentials check out,   
although I'll be damned if I know why if this foolishness is any indication of   
your level of work." She focused her steely gaze on Dolores. "My boss says to   
give you a day to talk to a lawyer . That is, if you can afford one." 

Dolores stiffened. Mulder, his mouth in a thin, contemptuous line, left   
Scully's side long enough to stand and glare down at Esther. "If need be, I'll   
supply a lawyer. And you had better ask Mr. Graves a question: does he want to   
get Lacy away from the psychic business or does he want her to go into it with   
him?" 

He turned to Dolores. "Think about it. If he were concerned with the welfare   
of the children, wouldn't he be concerned about both of them? Why just Lacy -   
and why now?" 

"That son of a bitch," Dolores murmured. "I wouldn't put it past him for a   
cold minute. He never could hold down a job. But how could he have found out   
about Lacy? That wasn't in the papers." 

Mulder folded his hands and sat down next to Scully again. He glanced at her   
as if to ask her permission to make one of his infamous leaps, and she   
answered him with as full a smile as she could muster through the haze of   
tender memories. 

"I think one of your neighbors must've told him about Lacy's ability, and now   
he's looking to cash in." 

The leap did not surprise Scully in the least. She almost felt relieved. 

"You're crazy. Hell, you're all crazy. I'm not staying here one more minute,"   
Esther grumbled, snatching up her handbag and heading for the door. "I'm   
warning you - this situation isn't fit for either of your children. I'll send   
Lacy back to her father, and if her father doesn't want Eugene then we'll put   
him in foster care, but they're getting out of this loony bin one way or   
another." She threw the door open and stormed out. 

No one moved for a moment and a cool evening breeze wafted through the   
trailer. After a moment Lacy raised her head, squriming in her seat, breathing   
hard through her mouth in panic. "We have to go after her." 

"What the hell for?" her mother demanded. 

"Mama, something bad's gonna happen to her. Someone's telling me...someone   
wants to get even..." 

Brakes squealed, tires churned in the gravel, and the unmistakable sound of   
metal on metal was followed by an endlessly blaring car horn. 

Mulder got up and peered out of the open window. "Howston, we have a problem." 

The noise attracted dozens of people in varying states of undress, all   
shouting directions to one another. Men swarmed like bees to the crumpled car   
- men in shorts, men in bathrobes, and men still in their work clothes rushed   
over, not to gawk but to assist. Scully was still giving the emergency   
operator their location when the teams went to work with practiced skill. 

"Wait, wait!" Scully shouted as she elbowed past the onlookers until she was   
at the edge of the ditch where Lucille's car had landed. "I'm a medical doctor   
- don't do anything until the paramedics and fire department get here!" 

"Aww, lady, we do this kind of thing all the time," drawled a tall, slender   
man whose sandy blond hair was streaked with the same motor oil that stained   
his hands. "We got all the tools we need." 

Scully leaned over so she could see into the car window, wincing at Esther   
Houston's injuries. The woman's chest was pinned by the steering wheel and her   
left arm hung at a highly improbable angle. "Ms Houston, don't try to move.   
Help is on the way." Esther turned her head and Scully could see that her jaw   
was fractured, hanging loose in a grotesque parody of astonishment. "Where the   
hell are the paramedics?" Scully demanded. 

"We're not really in what you'd call 'town,' ma'am. It'll be a while yet,"   
said one of the women as she watched in apparent fascination. "Just let these   
boys do their thing and they'll probably have her loose a lot faster than any   
ol' jaws of life. Then the paramedics can get her to Medical City in no time   
flat." She handed Scully a styrofoam cup of coffee. "Here, hon, you drink this   
and you'll feel a lot better." 

Scully sipped the acrid, strong brew, wishing there were some way to dispose   
of it without insulting her hostess. She watched Mulder talk to Dolores and   
Lacy; she could tell that he was comforting them even without hearing their   
words. From there Mulder insinuated his way into the knot of men, jacket off   
and shirt sleeves rolled up. He seemed to be pointing out something to the   
workers, but they just nodded and ignored him, pulling closer to their task   
until Mulder was left on the outside of the circle, a slump-shouldered   
onlooker. "Check the brake cables," she heard him call out, but his words were   
drowned out by the shrill squeals of power tools. Over the din she caught   
snatches of converstaion. 

"Brake cables ain't cut," one man said firmly. 

"Accelerator's just fine." 

"Looks like there's nothin' wrong here." 

And finally, "Sir, could you just take a couple steps backwards?" 

In spite of her concern she smiled at his forlorn image, the boy not allowed   
to play with the big kids. Out of the corner of her eye she spotted another   
boy left out of the proceedings - Eugene Graves. His pale gaze was pointed   
directly at her and his mouth worked as if he had something to say, but before   
she could make her way to him the ambulance and fire trucks arrived, and   
somewhere in the resulting meleé she lost track of him. 

"Okay, get a board under her neck and make certain her head's not jostled -   
she's got at least a broken jaw," Scully shouted at the paramedics. They   
seemed as unlikely to take her advice as the metal workers had been, for they   
nodded as if humoring her before turning back to their work. Exasperated,   
Scully let her arms fall to her sides, and when she looked up she saw a   
chagrined Mulder looking down at her, no light in his eyes. 

"Think we've become invisible?" he asked. 

"I don't know, Mulder- it's like watching an army of worker ants. I've never   
seen anything like it." 

The car squealed in protest as it was winched out of its hiding place, the   
metallic howl almost loud enough to drown out the whining siren as the   
ambulance sped away. The firefighters accepted cups of coffee from the women   
and got back into their trucks as if nothing out of the ordinary had just   
happened. 

"We get folks stuck out here all the time," one of the residents said to the   
agents as he dusted his hands off on his faded jeans. "Half the time they're   
on their way before anyone official can get out here to lend a hand. Did y'all   
get some of the coffee?" He turned his head and called to the women nearest   
the accident scene. "Don't you go puttin' that away until these folks have had   
their share. And I could do with another cup, myself." 

A middle-aged woman in a print housedress appeared with a glass carafe that   
had clearly seen better days. Before Scully could warn him about the toxicity   
of the brew, Mulder was given a steaming cup of jet-black coffee. He sipped,   
wincing, as the man spoke to him. "We looked at the brake cables like you   
said, but there's not a thing wrong with 'em. I guess she was just driving   
without paying attention and hit that ditch pretty fast." 

"There's no sign of tampering?" asked Mulder, who was licking his teeth as if   
in fear of incipient corrosion. 

"There wasn't nothin' wrong with that car but the driver. Now if you good   
folks will excuse me, I've got to be at work tomorrow early. Y'all have a nice   
night." 

The crowd dispersed as quickly as it had gathered, leaving no one outside but   
the two agents and Dolores Graves, who was sitting on the front stoop of her   
trailer. She lifted her tear-streaked face to Scully. "Are they gonna try and   
blame this on me, too?" 

"I can't imagine how. Yes, you argued with Esther Houston and she met with an   
accident, but your whole family was in the trailer the entire time and the men   
who looked at the car didn't see any signs of tampering." Scully rubbed her   
eyelids with her fingertips. "In all likelihood, Ms. Houston wasn't paying   
attention to her driving - she was probably very upset by what she saw."   
Quietly, as if to herself and Mulder alone, she added, "God knows I was." 

She was gratified to feel Mulder's presence just close enough to send some of   
his comforting body heat to her. "What I suggest is that we all get a good   
night's sleep and talk in the morning. Agent Scully will check out your   
ex-husband and see what kind of motives are driving him to demand Lacy but not   
Eugene." 

Scully shot him a look that plainly asked what the hell he would be doing   
during that time. 

Mulder sat on his heels and gave Dolores his most engaging smile. "I'd like to   
spend a little time with your daughter. There are a lot of questions she can   
answer for me...us." 

"Mulder, we need to go. Now. Good night, Mrs. Graves - keep an eye on the   
children and let us know how they're feeling tomorrow morning." Scully half   
dragged him up, her hand remaining on his arm until they reached their car.   
She spent a few moments judging the terrain around them before putting the car   
in gear and leaving the trailer park behind in a cloud of dust. 

"Okay, Scully, what's this about?" Mulder asked mildly. 

"Mulder, you can not use that girl for your own single-minded purposes. It's   
just not right." 

He turned toward her with that familiar, annoying, smug smile she always   
wanted to wipe off his mouth with a fist. Or a kiss. "So, Scully - you believe   
that she's legit." 

Dammit, she thought, he's trapped me. She gripped the steering wheel, her   
fingers growing stiff with strain. "I have to admit that she's got me stumped.   
That memory of Melissa was something I'd almost forgotten. I know it's   
something I never told you." 

The smile melted, replaced with a sobriety Scully seldom saw in him. "There   
are a lot of things you never told me, Scully," he murmured, angling his body   
toward the window and the endless night sky before them. 

Her throat constricted, leaving her dangerously close to tears, but before she   
could succumb to her emotions she heard and felt thumps coming from the back   
of the car. "What's that?" 

"I don't know - but I think it came from the trunk." 

They both got out of the car, weapons at the ready. Scully pressed the trunk   
release on the remote and the hinge squeaked, revealing Eugene Graves curled   
up around the spare tire, his light blue eyes squinting at the intrusion of   
the street lights. 

"Hey," was all he said. 

***** 

Ramada Inn and Rodeo Convention Center   
Room 724   
12:56 a.m.   


Junk food, junk food everywhere and not a bite to eat, Scully thought as she   
watched Eugene plow into another cellophane-wrapped treat. Mulder sat in the   
matching vinyl chair on the other side of the little round table, eagerly   
taking a bite of a Hostess Twinkie. He offered the other one to Scully, who   
demurred with a little grunt of distaste and took a seat on the corner of the   
bed. Outsider. Infidel. 

"I needed to talk with y'all and I didn't know how else to do it without Mama   
around," Eugene had told them as they'd collared him and put him on his feet.   
Mulder's response had been immediate - forget calling his mother, Mulder had   
told her, let's take him to the motel and feed him until he tells us what we   
want to know. Scully made a quick phone call to Dolores Graves to assure her   
that Eugene was well and safe while Mulder and the boy went to the snack   
machine to see how many quarters could be spent on sugar and fat. 

Now the "menfolk" were enjoying the fruits of their plunder. Scully's feet   
hurt and her head was both spinning and aching with the night's events. Eugene   
took a swallow of Mountain Dew and settled back in the chair. "I guess y'all   
are wondering how I got in the car," he said. 

"Among other things," Mulder answered in a dry tone. 

"I wanted to talk about Lacy, but with the wreck and all there just wasn't any   
time. So I went back into the trailer and found your keys. I hit the remote   
trunk lock and snuck in. It's real hot in there," he added, taking a long   
swallow of his soda. 

"I can imagine." Scully, nearing the end of her patience, sat up straighter   
and looked the young man in the eye. "So what is it that you couldn't tell us   
in front of your mother, Eugene?" 

Sadness made the gaunt face even more pitiful that it had seemed before. "It's   
kind of a long story. You see, when Dad first left us it wasn't so bad because   
our Gramma - that's Dad's mama - was still alive and she kinda looked out for   
us and made sure he didn't ignore us too bad. But she was real old and she   
died a couple years later." 

"And since she died, your dad's paid less and less attention to you?" Mulder   
asked, handing the boy a piece of kleenex along with another Twinkie. 

"Yeah, that's right. The real bad thing is that Lacy don't remember Dad too   
well anyhow. He left when she was just four and by the time she started school   
he was...busy a lot. Then it got real shitty." Eugene's pale cheeks flushed.   
"Sorry, ma'am," he muttered at Scully. "Lousy, I mean." 

Scully didn't suppress her smile as she looked into Eugene's eyes. "That's   
okay. We all say those things once in a while." 

For the first time the boy directed his narrative at Scully rather than   
Mulder. "This might sound sorta sissy, but I took to visiting Gramma's grave.   
The cemetery's between school and the Albertson's where I go to work after   
school. Gramma always liked to visit folks' graves. I mean, no one was coming   
to see her 'cause she was so old when she died and all her friends was gone   
already. She said she could sorta communicate with them. The dead people, I   
mean." 

"What happened when you went to visit her grave?" Scully asked. She felt a   
little electric shiver at the base of her neck as she recalled a sudden   
closeness to her sister when she came to put flowers at her marker. 

"Nothin' at first, but after a while I started to feel her. This is so weird,"   
he grunted, twisting around so that neither agent could see his face. "You   
ain't gonna believe me." 

"Try us," Mulder murmured. "You might just be surprised." 

Eugene wiped his nose with the kleenex, then stared at it as if he had   
forgotten how it came to be in his hand. "Okay, then. I actually got to where   
Gramma was talking to me. She sounded happy, like she had something really   
special she wanted to share with me. Then after a few more days, I started   
hearing these, like, voices. Only in my head. But they were REAL!" he cried,   
turning his blue gaze to Mulder and Scully in turn. 

"The same voices that, uh, talk through Lacy...?" Scully asked. 

"I suppose. See, Gramma said that the voices would make me special and that   
maybe then Dad would want me back. But I got to thinking. See, Lacy's better   
than me at school and she should get to go somewhere nicer than here, like   
where Dad lives. They got a real nice middle school out there and, well, Lacy   
needs to get an education like Mama wants. I'm gonna do okay at Albertson's   
and all, but she - well, she's just a little kid and she needs more than what   
I got, you know? So I asked Gramma to make her special instead of me." 

When Scully looked over at Mulder, she saw that his eyes were shimmering.   
Dangerous tears, she called them, the ones he shed over victims and   
unfortunates, the ones he would never allow for himself, the ones that often   
led him to do reckless things. She needed to ground him now, before something   
outrageous could occur to him. "Eugene, I understand how much you care for   
your sister - but don't you think you should've asked her if she wanted to be   
'special' before you made her that way?" 

"Yes, Ma'am, I should've. But, like I say, I ain't too bright. This was all I   
could think of to do." 

"You'd give up your chance to be with your father, for an education and a   
chance at a better life, and give it to Lacy?" Mulder asked softly as he   
leaned forward, elbows on the table. 

Eugene glanced from Scully to Mulder, the shape of his future adult face   
showing plainly in the lamplight. "Yes, sir - wouldn't you?" 

Mulder lowered his head and shaded his eyes with one hand. 

The sudden knock on the door took all three of them by surprise. Scully rose   
from the bed and found Dolores Graves waiting outside, her car keys in hand.   
"I'm so sorry about this," she said as she beckoned to her son with one   
finger. He walked over to the door but kept looking back at Mulder and Scully   
as his mother said, "Eugene, let's go and let these folks get some rest." 

Scully tapped her finger against the corner of her mouth, her eyebrows raised,   
and Eugene mirrored the gesture to remove a crumb. He gave her a crooked   
smile. "Thank you, ma'am." 

"You're welcome, Eugene. Agent Mulder and I will come out tomorrow morning,   
okay?" 

"Thank you," Dolores said, wrapping her arm around her son. "I hope he wasn't   
too much trouble." 

"No trouble at all," Scully assured her. "We'll see you in the morning." She   
closed the door behind mother and son and paused, dreading the moment when she   
would have to turn back and witness Mulder's self-flagellation. A squeak came   
from the direction of the bed, and a sigh, and when Scully turned around she   
saw Mulder lying on his stomach, his head buried in his folded arms. 

Fox Mulder - traumatized genius, crack agent and believer of crackpots,   
thought Scully, what am I supposed to say to you? You're lying there, thinking   
about the hundreds of things you did for yourself instead of your sister,   
never dreaming that someday you'd be without her. I can't imagine your   
terrible world, Mulder. Let me in. 

As if reading her mind, Mulder turned over and began to speak. "I resented   
giving her half of my candy bar. I got mad when Mom went to her ballet recital   
instead of my Little League game." His brow furrowed. "I was a spoiled little   
prep school kid, Scully, but would I have done what this boy - who lacks every   
advantage I had - is doing now?" 

"Mulder, you can't think like that. You were just a little boy, even younger   
than Eugene is. I was the same way with Melissa - and I was a terrible tyrant   
with Charlie because he was the only one I actually could kick around. Your   
relationship with Samantha was completely, utterly normal." 

"Maybe." He ran a speculative gaze over her. "So. Scully. What were you   
thinking when Melissa was talking to you?" 

"It wasn't Melissa, it was Lacy," Scully answered, grimacing when Mulder let   
out an exasperated groan. 

"Did you hear one word of what Eugene said just now?" 

"I heard a lot of things coming from a teenaged boy who's terrified of being   
alone. Do I think he thinks he's telling the truth? Yes, I do. Do I believe   
it? Mulder, I..." 

"Scully, don't. Just stop." He took a slow breath. "We both know what we've   
experienced. You're the one who insists on evidence and now you have it - not   
in your hands, but in your head. In your heart." He looked up at her,   
imploring her to give him this one gift. "Please, Scully. Don't deny yourself   
what you know is the truth." 

There were a few beats of silence. 

Enough time for a choice. 

Scully approached the bed, her arms folded, her head tilted at an angle so she   
could look into her partner's eyes. "Okay, Mulder, enjoy it. I'm only going to   
say this once." 

"Give it to me straight," he responded in a low growl as he sat up, and Scully   
was glad to see some sparkle in his eyes. "What do you think about Lacy   
Graves?" 

Scully leaned over him, placing her hands on his shoulders, her face so close   
to his that she could smell the remnants of his after-shave and the acrid   
coffee he had consumed earlier. Looking straight into his eyes, she whispered   
four words. 

"She sees dead people." 

If he wanted to laugh at her or exult in being right, he showed no sign except   
for the slight smile flickering around the corners of his mouth. Instead, he   
nodded, squeezed her hand, and pressed his forehead against hers. "Thanks,   
Scully." 

She pulled just far enough away to be able to examine his face, a face so   
familiar that she could read every thought as if it were her own. "You're   
welcome, Mulder." Her hands traveled down his arms in a brief caress, then she   
stepped back. "And you need to get some sleep." 

"I'm already on a bed." His leer was touched with something else Scully   
couldn't quite register, something wistful, perhaps, or something as simple   
and yet impenetrable as sorrow. 

"Nice try, Mulder. But I don't want any part of the sugar rush you're about to   
have, so get upstairs to your room and let it wear off." 

"You're sure you don't want me to work it off...?" 

Scully's throat constricted as Mulder was unable to finish even this most   
familiar of innuendoes. "Out. Now." She gave him what she hoped was a playful   
shove toward the door, ignoring the kicked-puppy expression he showed her as   
he looked back over his shoulder. Even when she closed the door behind him she   
could hear his footsteps slowing down as if he were checking behind him for   
some sign that she had relented. 

Scully toed off her shoes and sat tailor-fashion on the bed, which was still   
warm from Mulder's body heat. She ran her fingers over the bedspread until the   
last vestiges of his presence cooled. When she looked up she caught a glimpse   
of herself in the mirror, noticing for the first time in years the way her   
cheekbones and chin resembled Melissa's. 

A wave of nostalgia washed through her and threatened to spill over through   
her brimming eyes. With a low moan, Scully lay down and pulled the blanket   
over herself without even bothering to get undressed. 

Her sleep was uneasy, full of dark dreams where she could almost but not quite   
catch the bullet that tore through her sister's head, or where she was nearly   
in time to give her father a nitroglycerin pill, or where she reached through   
a swirl of incense that turned to noxious gas fumes. Or where she clasped   
Teena Mulder's hand and started pulling her to safety, when she heard the oven   
timer go off. 

Rhythmically. 

Phone. 

Scully let her fingers scrabble blindly on the nightstand as she sat bolt   
upright, gasping as if coming up for air after being held down in murky water.   
With an effort she controlled the harsh intake of air and picked up the   
receiver, rubbing her grainy eyes with the other hand. "Uhm...Scully..." 

"Scully, it's me. Did I wake you?" 

"Mulder...what time is it...?" 

"Hey, I'm sorry, Scully. It's almost seven and I thought you'd be up already." 

Slowly, with leaden limbs, Scully sat up and turned toward the spot where the   
curtains didn't quite reach the edge of the window. Sunlight was streaming in   
and she blinked rapidly, tearing up at the unexpected brightness of day.   
Perhaps, she thought, they were tears for the countless failures she had   
experienced in her night wanderings, but she wiped them away with the back of   
her hand as she spoke to her partner. "What's up?" 

"I just got a call from Dolores Graves. Her ex-husband has shown up at her   
door with presents for Lacy and a demand that he get to spend some, and I   
quote, 'quality time with the little sweetheart.'" 

"That smells bad," Scully said around a yawn. 

"Like last week's fish. Dolores is pretty freaked out, but she doesn't want to   
have the police in there again and she's asking for our help. How soon can you   
be ready?" 

"I'm on my way to the shower now. Give me ten minutes." 

"You're on your way to the shower? Ooh, Scully, I'll be there in five." 

Scully smiled, relieved to hear the hint of recovery in Mulder's voice. "Just   
for that, Mulder, make it fifteen. And it's your turn to bring coffee." She   
hung up on him, still shaking the cobwebs of the night before out of her head   
as she walked into the bathroom. She was careful not to check her reflection   
in the mirror. 

***** 

Happy Ridge Trailer Park   
Saturday, 8:47 a.m.   


Once again the sound of a heated argument was clearly audible outside the   
trailer. Scully stood on the stoop and rapped her knuckles sharply on the   
door. "Mrs. Graves? Are you all right in there?" 

The man who answered was small-boned and slender, like Eugene, but with Lacy's   
blue-gray eyes. "So you're the FBI people," Jake Graves said, as he looked   
Scully up and down. 

"That would be us," Mulder responded, holding up his ID. Scully saw the   
difference between Graves' work-callused hand and the smooth skin and tidy   
manicure of her partner. "I'm Agent Mulder and this is my partner, Agent   
Scully." 

"Ma'am," Graves said with a nod. He did not even glance at her badge, a fact   
which annoyed Scully in no small way. 

When they came inside, Scully noticed that Dolores was holding tightly to   
Lacy, stroking the girl's long hair. Eugene was standing behind them, hands on   
his mother's shoulders, head bowed. Scully acknowledged them with a reassuring   
smile before turning back to the newcomer. "Mr. Graves," Scully said, "I'm   
interested in your attempt to have Lacy placed in your custody." 

"Like I told Ms. Houston, I heard on the news that a man died during one of   
Dolores' fake SAY-ances. That ain't no way for a child to be brought up, so I   
put the papers out for getting custody." 

"People put 'papers' out for a dog, Mr. Graves." Mulder's tone was as bland as   
his impassive face. Only Scully recognized the dangerous set of the jaw, the   
twitching of the cheek muscles. "If you're truly concerned for the well-being   
of your offspring, why aren't you taking them both?" He waved his arm at the   
stack of presents, still wrapped in pink paper with pink bows. "If you want to   
make up for lost time with your children, why only Lacy? And why now?" 

Graves' mouth fell open. Scully, reminded of Mulder's joke about last week's   
fish, had to fight back the urge to smile. 

"I'll tell you why," said Dolores Graves. She pointed a finger at the father   
of her children while clasping Lacy tightly to her side with her other arm.   
"He's out of work again and he thinks he can make a quick buck out of Lacy.   
What're you gonna do, Jake - take her to Bossier City and see if some dead guy   
can find out which slot machines are paying off? Or will you go all the way   
and get her a 900 number and a spot on the Psychic Friends Network?" 

Her ex-husband stood toe-to-toe with her and waved his hands in front of her   
face, scarcely missing his daughter's flushed cheek. "You're a fine one to   
talk! Lookit this stuff - crystal balls, velvet curtains, scaring some poor   
bastard to death and prob'ly stealing his wallet..." 

"That's enough," Mulder said, interrupting by holding his hand up between the   
two combatants. "This isn't about either of you - it's about Lacy. And if   
either of you had any sense, it'd be about Eugene, as well." 

"What's the boy got to do with this?" Jake sounded more annoyed than curious. 

"The 'boy' - your son - is the one with the real power, Jake. You've let the   
gravy train leave the station without you." Mulder motioned at the white-faced   
young man. "He's the one the spirit originally contacted, trying to give him a   
special gift. Eugene's an outstanding young man and he gave the ability away   
to his sister, hoping for a chance for a better life with you. But he   
overestimated you, Mr. Graves. He didn't know what you'd really want from such   
a special child." 

"Eugene's nothin' special. I want my daughter! Man, if she's the real thing,   
then I can..." 

"You can. You." Mulder shook his head. "Mr. Graves, this isn't about you. And   
if you were any kind of a real father, then you'd understand that." 

Lacy buried her face in her mother's bosom and began to sob quietly. "Ssh,   
Lacy, honey, it's okay, it's all right." Dolores smiled when Eugene moved to   
their side and dropped a shy kiss on Lacy's temple. "We're smarter than you,   
Jake Graves. We know exactly what you're up to and we don't need or want your   
handouts. Get the hell out of our house. Now." 

Scully moved forward to stand guard over the mother and children, daring   
Graves with her eyes to try something, anything, that would give her a reason   
to put her most constrictive pair of handcuffs on him. Mulder, a full five   
inches taller than the little man, merely stood with his hands on his hips in   
a gesture that opened his suit jacket just enough to show his gun holster. 

Graves seemed to lose an inch of height as he stumbled toward the trailer   
door. "You ain't seen the last of me," he howled as Mulder slammed the door   
behind him and locked it securely. They could hear his footsteps in the gravel   
outside, pacing around the trailer like a bear around a campfire. 

When Lacy turned her head, her cheeks were glistening with tears. "I don't   
understand," she sobbed. "You did this to me, Eugene? How come?" 

He put a clumsy hand on his sister's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Lacy. I thought it   
was for your own good. Honest." 

Dolores hugged both her children, looking up at the agents with pleading eyes.   
"Isn't there any way to get this to stop? To just go away?" 

Scully pursed her lips. Mulder was looking at her, waiting for her to say the   
words that would seal her avowal to him, that she believed. That she believed.   
"I think we'd better let the spirit answer that question herself," Scully   
said. 

Mulder's grateful smile warmed her to the depths of her soul. 

All five of them walked to the kitchen table and sat down. Lacy was at the   
head of the table, her left hand extended to Scully, whose left hand was in   
Mulder's right. Dolores and Eugene completed the circle. Her face still damp,   
Lacy took a deep breath. Her eyes closed and her red lips trembled as if she   
were fighting against the spirit bubbling to the surface of her consciousness.   
The room was silent for long moments, then at last she spoke in a voice that   
sounded like thirty years' worth of cigarette smoking. 

"My name's Frances Little. I suppose I'm the one y'all've come to see. So to   
speak." 

Mulder leaned forward. "Talk to us about why you're here, in Lacy." 

"Well, that's kind of a long story. Eugene knows most of all why I'm in his   
sister, because he put me here." Lacy leaned forward and put her hand on her   
brother's arm, but the smile was that of a much older person. "He's a good   
boy. His grandmother told me all about him." 

"That's fine, Ms. Little, but suppose you tell us about why you're out here   
when you're supposed to be..." 

"Dead?" She laughed, an unsettling combination of an adult's chuckle and the   
giggle of a little girl. "I died in November of 1976 when the bus I was riding   
slid off the road in an ice storm just outside Huntsville. At first I didn't   
know what happened because all of us seemed to be together and we didn't feel   
bad - but then there was this bright light. We all started to head there, but   
one at a time people turned around because they were called back. Someone was   
so anxious to be with them again that each and every one got to go back to   
life. All but me." 

"Jake's mama was on that bus," said Dolores. "Somehow, even though the bus was   
in a bunch of pieces on the side of the road, only one person died." 

Lacy took a straw out of a mayonnaise jar on the table and began to roll it   
back and forth between her index and middle fingers as if it were a cigarette.   
"That was me. You see, I never got married or even had close friends, so when   
I was at the edge there wasn't anyone to pull me back. None of my family cared   
much - they divided up my stuff and saw that I got a decent Christian   
burial, but nothing more. See, you have to be really loved to be brought back   
- or truly mourned to get to move on. I'm neither, so I'm stuck here. It's   
only the people like us who are what you'd call 'mediums,' the folks who can   
communicate from the dead to the living." 

"So you were able to convince other people to...speak through Lacy?" Mulder   
asked. 

"Sure. They all want to talk to someone they loved, especially when that's the   
person who mourned them enough to send them on to eternity. But their only   
chance is to go through someone like me who's caught in between." 

"How did you choose this family?" asked Scully. 

"Oh, I know their grandma. She came to my funeral even though she'd just   
gotten out of the hospital and had a broken wrist. Once in a while she'd even   
clear up the crabgrass around my stone, and she'd sort of talk to me like I   
was right there with her. I liked that about her - I was sorry when she came   
through here on the way to the light, because she was a way for me to hear   
about the folks back home. When she told me that Jake had divorced Dolores and   
was being a real bastard about the kids, I felt bad for her. Then Eugene   
started to visit her grave and that's when I got the idea. I figured he might   
be willing to talk to me, but he decided on Lacy instead and I went along with   
him." 

Lacy's body shuddered as if she were aware that she was talking about herself   
through another person's voice. "Anyway, since Dolores was doing this seance   
stuff, I thought it'd be a fun way to keep in touch with the world." 

"What about that man who died? Was that really his mother?" Dolores' voice was   
shaky as she asked the questions. 

"Some folks aren't happy with how their loved ones turned out. They love it   
when there's some way to let the living know that they're screwing up. Old   
Mrs. Putzman, she was thrilled to find out that she could get one last dig in   
at her son." 

Scully tightened her hand around Lacy's. "Ms. Little, what's happening to Lacy   
is something she doesn't want. It's making her unhappy." 

"I know that. I'm really sorry. The boy and I thought it would be a good idea   
but really it wasn't. Thing is, I've waited all this time and contacted all   
these people, trying to find out what it feels like.You see, everyone gets to   
pull someone back once, maybe twice, if they want to bad enough." Lacy's gaze   
rested on Mulder and Scully's joined hands. "But you two know that already,   
don't you? 

"Yes," whispered Mulder, stroking Scully's knuckles with his thumb. 

"I want to know what it feels like when someone wants you to live so much that   
they come and get you. I've looked and looked, but no one I found really   
knew." She sighed. "Until now. If I could just know how it feels to be right   
there on the edge and have someone call for me, pull me back..." Lacy's   
shoulders were hunched and shaking, and tears poured down her face. 

Scully fought back the sour taste that invaded her mouth every time a memory   
of her Antarctic experience was set off. Her voice shook as she said, "Mrs.   
Little, you can look inside me if you want to know what that was like...if you   
promise to leave Lacy Graves." 

"Scully," whispered Mulder. "What are you doing?" 

She opened her eyes long enough to see the concerned furrows in his brow, then   
she leaned over until her shoulder brushed his. "I'm giving her what she needs   
to know, Mulder. What she needs to be freed." 

"I won't hurt her, Mr. Mulder," Lacy said softly. "I just want to feel it,   
that's all. Honey, I'm ready when you are." 

Mulder's fingers tightened convulsively around Scully's, and in a blinding   
flash she saw herself through his eyes, naked and frozen in an alien pod. She   
was dead yet alive, deadalive, something foreign and horrible sucking the very   
life from her entrails as it denied her breath, breathing for her, against   
her, from the inside. The light was there, right there, and it would be so   
warm... 

She could see Mulder smashing a canister against the wall of ice, perilously   
close to her face, hear the cracking of her frozen underwater prison, feel the   
vibrations as he called her name until finally, finally, she was able to vomit   
up the foul substance the aliens had put down her throat and feel instead the   
comfort of human fingers and the unexpected warmth of a single, salty tear.   
There was no more light, only Mulder... 

Her mind went back further, to a hospital bed, her body so cold that nothing   
could warm it, worn down to nothing but bones, so thin, so cold, so thin, so   
cold...the pain behind her eyes so sharp that she wanted to cry out with each   
shuddering breath...just lie down and sleep, sleep, let yourself be washed   
away toward the brightness...so easy to slip away, no more pain, no more   
suffering... 

She felt the softest touch of Mulder's fingers at her temple followed by a   
slight dip in the mattress as he pressed his mouth to the pitiful thinness of   
her wrist, heard him take in a sobbing breath, and oh, she wanted to comfort   
him but her eyes simply could not open, she was too tired...suddenly the light   
was extinguished and her soul told her body to fight for just one more day,   
another minute with him... 

...because he called her back. 

"He called you back," Mrs. Little's voice said softly, as Lacy released the   
hands she held and moved to kneel in front of Scully. She wrapped her arms   
around Scully's waist and buried her face in her lap. The woman spoke one last   
time. "Thank you, honey. And may God bless you." 

The lights flickered once, twice, and went out for a few seconds. By the time   
Mulder had scrambled to his feet, the power returned and the room was bathed   
in fluorescent light. 

Scully stroked Lacy's hair, rocking back and forth with tears sparkling at the   
rims of her eyes. "It's okay now, she's gone. You're all right, Lacy. You're   
all right." 

Mulder's arms went around her from behind and he held tightly to her.   
"Scully," he breathed, and one last time she felt her soul being pulled toward   
him. 

"I'm fine, Mulder," she said, hoping that the bravado of the words would, for   
once, fool him, but when she looked up into his face she saw raw terror in his   
eyes. "It's all over now. There's no one in Lacy but Lacy - Ms. Little told me   
so just as she went...through me." 

Dolores was on her knees, wrapping her arms around her daughter and breathing   
harshly through her mouth. "Oh, my God. Lacy...Lacy..." 

The girl's eyes opened and she scrubbed at them with her index fingers. Her   
expression was perplexed rather than fearful. "Mama? What happened?" 

"You're going to be just fine now, Lacy. These people helped make you normal   
again. You're my little girl again, oh, my God..." 

"She isn't in me anymore?" Lacy asked, her lower lip trembling just a little. 

"No, honey. Miss Scully helped her get to Heaven. Now she's with Granma and   
Jesus, honey, and you're my own baby girl." 

Lacy's next question stunned everyone into silence. "Is Daddy still out   
there?" 

Eugene got to his feet and checked through the window. "Yep - he's right   
outside the Torres' trailer. Want me to go get him?" 

"Nope." Lacy stood up and dusted the knees of her jeans off, and her grin was   
that of a little girl. "I just got something to do, that's all. I'll be right   
back." 

The others watched as Lacy threw open the door of the trailer. She rounded her   
shoulders a little and made a rough coughing sound in Jake's direction. "You!"   
she shouted. 

The little man stared at her. 

"Look at you, Jake Graves - betting your money on car races and girlfriends   
and ignoring your own children, your own flesh and blood! I'm ashamed of you!" 

"M...m...mama?" Jake stuttered. 

"Shiftless! Worthless! You selfish, pig-headed..." Lacy's chubby fists went to   
his chest, beating it while he just stood there and made incoherent noises. "I   
should've never told you that I put that money under the floorboards in my   
bedroom, because you probably dug that up ten minutes after I was cold!" 

Jake turned white. He fumbled for a moment in his pocket until he found his   
car keys, then dashed to a dark green truck parked haphazardly next to   
Dolores' trailer. Without another word he gunned the engine and sped away. 

"Lacy!" Dolores ran to her, wringing her hands. "Oh, God, that woman's still   
in her - she was talking just like Jake's mother! And now he's run off to find   
that money..." 

Lacy's childish giggle bubbled over and she threw her arms around her mother's   
neck. "Mama, that was just me. I made it up." She grinned over her shoulder at   
Mulder and Scully. "He sure does run fast, huh?" 

Dolores wrapped her arms around her and Eugene joined them, all three laughing   
and crying at once. From the tangle of arms and legs, Dolores mouthed the   
words "thank you" to the agents. Mother and children retreated into their home   
and closed the door behind them. 

Mulder spoke to Scully without actually turning in her direction. "Think   
that's the end of Dolores Graves' psychic career?" 

"I think we can bet on it, Mulder." She saw a shadow pass over his face,   
different from the ones she had seen since his mother's suicide and the news   
of Samantha's ultimate fate. It was the one she saw those last days before her   
cancer went into remission. She nudged his clenched fist with her thumb,   
running her fingers around the tightness until he relented and let her thread   
her fingers through his, then she brought their clasped hands to her lips and   
kissed the base of his thumb. 

He looked down at her with surprise on his face, the expression peculiarly   
endearing. "What's that for, Scully?" 

"For coming to get me, Mulder." 

And, for once, they stood in the Texas sunshine with nothing to fear. 

***** 

End "Dance of the Blessed Spirits" 

Thank you, Barbara D., for your friendship, kindness, and way with words. Like   
the song says, I'm nothing without you. 

Feedback would be petted, fed, and cared for like you wouldn't believe at marguerite@swbell.net. 

Back to case files.   
  
  
  
  



End file.
